


You Look Hot

by Blink_Blue



Series: Things Unemployed Oliver does on his Laptop [3]
Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Connor loves them, Established Relationship, Insecurity, M/M, Smut, the return of Oliver's sexy glasses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 21:38:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8417800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blink_Blue/pseuds/Blink_Blue
Summary: Oliver's old glasses make a shocking reappearance.





	

Oliver doesn’t look up at the sound of the front door opening, but his eyes do widen as his heart jumps in his chest. Frantically, he tries to finish the task at hand before Connor makes the distance from the front door to the couch where he currently resides. He knows without a doubt that Connor would not be happy to learn what he’s doing.

“Ollie?”

The other man’s voice rings out in the air. But there’s something specific about the cadence of his voice that makes Oliver’s fingers stumble as they fly over the keyboard.

“Hm?” He sounds, without looking up. He just needs to finish compiling the data for the cases—Annalise wants it all by tomorrow morning and Connor definitely isn’t going to be happy when he finds out what he’s been up to—

“What are you doing?”

Oliver snaps his head up at the proximity of the other man’s voice. “Oh, n-nothing—um, I was just—” he shrugs his shoulders awkwardly. “Playing Starcraft…” He slowly, casually closes his computer on his lap, hoping the other man’s suspicions aren’t raised.

But it’s pretty clear that Connor’s focus is not on his laptop. Connor’s eyes are glued to his face, so much so that Oliver is about to ask if part of his lunch somehow got left behind on it—

“You’re wearing your glasses.”

“Oh!” Oliver’s hand reaches up to his face. He had completely forgotten that he took his contacts out earlier. He laughs awkwardly, suddenly feeling very self conscious. Nowadays, he hardly ever wears his glasses—he always makes sure to take his contacts out right before bed, and he puts them in first thing in the morning. He was never a fan of those awkward, clunky looking things…

“Yeah, I uh—I was staring at the screen all day and my eyes got tired… They feel better now though, I’ll go put my—”

“No!”

Oliver jumps at the firmness of the other man’s voice. The way Connor is staring at him kind of freaks him out a bit, like it’s the last thing Connor wants him to do.

“Wh-what?”

“I like them,” Connor says huskily, as he steps closer. He drops down on the couch next to his boyfriend, eyes still running over the other man’s face. “I like them a lot actually.”

Oliver grins shyly. “Really?” Safe to say, he says it in disbelief. No one had ever said a good thing about his glasses in his life. In all honesty, they added too much to the whole ‘nerd look’ he had going on. They certainly didn’t help with his self esteem issues growing up, and even after… Once he made the change to contact lenses, it was a nice little boost to his confidence. He stood a little straighter, walked a bit steadier… Afterwards, it was a subconscious effort not to let Connor see him in his old glasses. It reminded him too much of his shy, former self… the one who got cheated on and left behind, broken and unwanted…

He blinks behind the coke bottle rims when Connor scoots closer on the couch.

“You should really wear them more often,” Connor says in a low voice.

Oliver clears his throat quietly, unable to help the grin that spreads wide on his lips, and trying _desperately_ to make sure he’s not misreading the situation. “You uh—you really like them?” He looks back to Connor, and it’s clear as day on the other man’s face that _yeah_ he really fucking likes them. “Connor—”

The other man moves quick as lightning—he’s on him in a second flat. Oliver feels a rush of hot air before Connor’s lips are pressed to his own. And it’s not a gentle kiss—no, the way Connor is on him is hot and fast and dirty, full of tongue and teeth—his hands run over his chest, over his shoulders and then quickly back down again to grip the hem of his shirt, and he pulls the material over his head.

Oliver chuckles at the first opportunity of air that he gets. “I—I wasn’t expecting this,” he says with a small laugh. His hands are glued to Connor’s torso, which is making it difficult for the other man to remove his shirt.

Connor snorts derisively. “Yeah well, I wasn’t expecting to come home to you looking like the hottest, nerdiest wet dream of my life.” He grabs Oliver by the shoulders and pulls them back onto the couch. Oliver lets out an oomph of protest and struggles to position himself so he’s not crushing the other man beneath him—Connor doesn’t seem to mind though. “Come on, baby…” he murmurs as their lips crush together again.

Oliver can feel Connor’s arousal pressing against his hip. Connor’s hands are tightly wrapped around his waist, and he breathes heavily above him. His glasses slip a centimeter down his nose, and he readjusts—reaches up a hand to them, about to take them off when Connor _growls_ at him, answers by rolling his hips up and smacking his hand away from his face.

“What—”

“ _Keep them on._ ”

Oliver licks his lips, staring down at the other man. His fingers pulse along Connor’s sides, feels them along his torso, finally rubs his thumb over Connor’s nipple. He’s taken by surprise when Connor pushes him back in a sudden rush of strength—reorients them until Oliver’s sitting up against the couch, Connor on his lap, staring down at him through lidded eyes.

“I want to do it like this,” Connor murmurs softly.

Oliver’s hands ghost along the other man’s hips, holding him close as the other man grinds on his lap. 

Connor leans down—runs his tongue over Oliver’s lips and his hands along Oliver’s sides. Oliver can’t help the gasp he lets out when Connor’s hand finds its way into his pants. He’s already trembling and they’re not even fully naked yet.

That quickly changes when Connor jumps off him, discards his pants, and rummages through the coffee table drawer for the lube hidden in there.

Connor quickly returns to his arms, their lips meet, and Connor’s warm hand slathers Oliver’s erection with slick lube and a grip that’s _almost_ too tight. Oliver has just enough time to let out a groan before Connor’s hands are gripping his hips for support, and then he sinks himself down on his engorged cock—his head falls back and lips fall open, as every inch of Oliver’s cock slides up into him.

Connor breaths heavily as he pauses—adjusts—it’s almost too much for him—but Oliver holds him close as they shake together, because _damn_ it feels so good inside the other man. 

Connor gasps as he starts rocking his hips, just a bit at first. He trembles and breathes against the other man’s lips. Until finally, it _really_ starts to feel good, and he opens his eyes, they’re half lidded as he watches Oliver bite his lip and stifle his moans.

No, _no_ it’s too good for that.

Connor rocks his hips harder. Lifts them up and slams them back down until both their eyes are rolling back in their skulls. Oliver groans loudly through clenched teeth as Connor shudders against him, closer and closer to the edge.

_“Oh god Connor…”_ Oliver whispers into the other man’s skin, feeling him grip the muscles of his shoulders tightly.

_“You look so hot like this…”_ Connor murmurs between whimpers, as he grinds down on Oliver’s cock, rocking his hips back and forth quickly.

Oliver blinks as he struggles to hold back his orgasm.

“R-really?”

Connor opens his eyes wide and stares down at him. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He hisses. “You’re the hottest damn thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Oliver grins as a bright surge of confidence rushes through him. He reaches up a hand to Connor’s neck, bringing him down until their lips meet. Connor kisses back enthusiastically, still moaning as Oliver is buried deep inside his body.

“You’ve always been f-fucking gorgeous to me,” Connor says breathily, as they pant together. “S-so fucking h-hot,” he stutters as Oliver grazes his sweet spot again and again.

Oliver’s eyes fly open—he doesn’t want to miss this moment. He gasps loudly through a choked grunt, hips thrusting up into the other man’s body. They’re both so close—he can feel it. He tosses his head back as Connor rocks down _again._ His hand reaches up to the other man’s hair, grabbing at the soft silky strands, longer now since he grew them out. “I—I was always a-afraid you never liked them,” he admits heavily.

Connor stares down at him. “Oliver,” he says lowly. “You know you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, right? No matter what you have on your face.”

Oliver blinks, struggling to focus between words and tight heat around his cock.

“Like seriously,” Connor pants. “One look at you, and I would have bent over _anywhere_ for you.”

Oliver can’t help but laugh. “A-anywhere?” Oliver gasps even as Connor works him harder and harder, faster and faster—

“ _Ahh_ —”

Connor curls towards him, spine bending as he cums, trying to bury his face in Oliver’s neck, but Oliver doesn’t let him. Oliver finds his lips, forcing them together and—“oh fuck fuck _fuck ahhhhh—”_

Oliver moans as he releases himself into the warmth of the other man’s body. Connor is blissed out—some mix of moaning and trembling in his arms, and Oliver quickly feels the warm, sticky mess that the other man made in his lap, but he still holds him tight.

A few moments of heavy breathing later and Oliver pulls back just an inch to look at the other man. Strands of Connor’s sweat soaked hair fall into his face.

“You look like a mess,” Oliver says breathily, a soft grin on his lips.

Connor shakes with soft laugher. His eyes lovingly travel over the other man’s face.

“You look hot.”

**Author's Note:**

> [x](http://winters-blue-children.tumblr.com)


End file.
